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This Old Movie

Writer's picture: t.noblet.noble


I look out from this crooked old doorway,

to the tattered lawn, to broken cobble stones.

I remember that I need to uninvite you from this place.


For a short time, it felt safe. The sun could shine in.

You came in and had tea and didn’t shame

the way this old relic squeaked and groaned.


When you left, you took my secrets with you.

I am exposed in ways I never gave permission for.

There is no way to know how they have been used.


I would have never shown you the old silks and'

pretty dresses. Why make me believe they

could ever be worn again, if you never meant

to see them, if you never mean to return.


I close the door and draw the curtains.

Fade to black, fade to black.

Only the credits hold your memory.

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Trish Noble

Writer, Artist, Dreamer.

I design, write, and generally have fun

experimenting and creating things.

Even if I suck at it.

I am a Jungian enthusiast and avid dreamer.

I have four cats.  They all think I'm crazy.

© Trisha Noble - all rights reserved.

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